


unbound me, spin me in gold.

by redhoods



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, the others are there too obv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: “You sure it’s not too tight, sugar?” Miriam asks and he can see her critical eye on him in the reflection of the full length mirror, “Wouldn’t do a bit of good to have you passing out on us.”Clayton turns from the mirror, to press his fingers against the gown on the bed as he inhales deeply, “I’m just fine.”
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	unbound me, spin me in gold.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/gifts).

> grey got me with this one
> 
> i think i just wrote this in like one hour on my phone so if there’s any glaring mistakes, i give zero fucks
> 
> title from hypnotized by years & years

“You sure it’s not too tight, sugar?” Miriam asks and he can see her critical eye on him in the reflection of the full length mirror, “Wouldn’t do a bit of good to have you passing out on us.”

Clayton turns from the mirror, to press his fingers against the gown on the bed as he inhales deeply, “I’m just fine.”

She tilts her head, still scrutinizing, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve done something like this before,” she says, grin soft. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing you know better then,” he returns quietly and that’s that. 

———

The hat feels like overkill but Clayton doesn’t bother wasting his breath on it with Arabella. Aloysius on the other hand is squinting at him, “Is that hat necessary? Given that we’ll be at a distance and all?”

Arabella is still looking him over too closely for his liking, but she waves her hand, “Silhouette is important.”

He can’t really argue that but Aloysius lifts an eyebrow at him, so Clayton shrugs, “I’m tired of arguing,” he offers with a roll of his eyes. 

It makes Aloysius snort and Arabella roll her eyes heavenward.

———

“Matthew, honey, be a dear and shut your trap,” Miriam says when they all meet up at the horses. 

Clayton’s doing his best to not look at him too much but it’s hard when the Reverend has gone red up to the tip of his ears and has dropped his saddle not once, but twice in the five minutes they’ve all been together. 

“Give the poor man a break, his heart’s about to beat right outta his chest,” Aloysius teases and that finally snaps Matthew out of staring. 

They actually have to wait on him to finish readying his horse before they can leave. Clayton tries not to feel too flattered by it. 

———

The plan goes to shit. 

Or, really, the plan doesn’t even have a chance at working. 

Hard for a plan to work when you’re not expecting an ambush. 

They should’ve expected an ambush. 

If they had, he certainly wouldn’t be hiking up the skirts of a gown for his Colts. He’s not sure how Miriam and Arabella do it all the time, but all the more power to them. One of the men heads his way, leering something awful, and before Clayton can ever raise a gun, the man is crumpling with a shotgun shell lodged right in his heart. 

He turns his head, spots Matthew some ten paces away, jaw set something fierce as he turns the barrel on someone else. 

It’s more attractive than it has any right to be, but he can’t linger on it because ranks are being closed around them and he’s firing off shots as fast as he can. 

———

Matthew’s mouth is on his as soon as the door closes, his back against the wood as he’s kissed, hard and hot and insistent. 

It’s like Matthew doesn’t know what to do with himself now, hands everywhere. Against his jaw, following the curve of his waist in the corset, down to his hips, back up. 

The kiss breaks and his lips feel swollen and Matthew’s whole face is red when he says, “God,” and then immediately after, more reverent, “Fuck.”

Clayton laughs, tipping his head back against the door, “Think there’s only room for one of those in here.”

It’s well worth the baleful look Matthew gives him, even more so when Matthew sinks right down to his knees and Clayton is about to offer to lose some layers, but Matthew’s already scooping up all the layers and shuffling forward on his knees 

The layers of the skirt fall down around his shoulders, the shape of him obscene even though Clayton can’t actually see him, can only feel the hot breath against the line of his cock through his smalls. 

Thumbs press against his hips hard enough to bruise before hooking into his smalls tugging them down and Matthew wastes no time in swallowing him down. 

Clayton groans, long and loud into the quiet of the room, fingers scrambling for purchase on the door behind him, “Jesus fuckin’ _wept_, Matty.” The thumbs press back hard against his hips, reproachful even like this. 

There’s no finesse to it, the way Matthew swallows him down, sucks him hard and sloppy, desperate and eager for it. 

He pats the back of his head through the fabric of the dress, “If you wanna—ngh,” his head hits the door as Matthew hums around him, “If you wanna fuck, you gotta stop,” he pants out. 

Even through the layers, the pop of Matthew’s mouth pulling off his cock is loud. It takes a few seconds for him to emerge, mouth a used red slash, chin wet with spit and precome, “You wanna?”

Clayton snorts, thumbs at his lower lip, pushes it in against his tongue, “Yeah, I wanna.”

———

The dress ends up on the floor, which is fine, it was probably beyond even Miriam’s best skills. The corset however only ends up a little loose before they lose patience, and Clayton groans against the pillow as Matthew hooks his fingers in the laces and uses the corset as leverage to fuck deeper into him. 

Matthew’s other hand is at the curve of his waist, grip just the right side of painful, “Clayton,” he pants out, sounding dazed and already close to the edge, “_Clay_.”

“Fuck, Matt,” he says, turning his cheek against the pillow, panting too loud, breath hitching with each of Matthew’s forceful thrusts. 

Then Matthew’s hand is moving, sliding around his chest and pulling him up, until his back against Matthew’s chest. 

It changes the angle, drives a wild keen out of him, one hand reaching up to cup the back of Matthew’s head, the other dropping to his own cock. 

“Yeah,” Matthew says, chin digging into his shoulder, “Come on, Clay, I know you’re close,” he adds, a sloppy kiss dragging over his jaw as Matthew grinds forward against him. 

He digs his fingers into Matthew’s hair, jerking himself off with his other hand, hard and quick, body trembling. 

“Let me see you, beautiful,” Matthew rumbles low against his back and that’s it, Clayton comes so hard he sees spots, slumping forward against the pillow, doing his best to curl up off the wet spot he’s just made. 

Flapping a hand back, he smacks Matthew’s thigh, “Come on, don’t stop now,” he urges. 

And Matthew never needs to be told twice, both of his hands, big and broad and almost able to circle his waist entirely. His hips snap hard in a handful of thrusts before he’s tipping over the edge as well with a low groan that Clayton feels down to his bones. 

“Fuck,” Clayton breathes out as Matthew pulls out, tipping onto his side away from the wet spot. 

A gentle kiss presses to his shoulder, a far cry from the frenzy of before and Matthew’s hands are gentle now on the laces of the corset, “Don’t fall asleep with this on,” he says quietly. He doesn’t wait for a response though and Clayton’s happy to let himself be manipulated until the corset is removed. 

After cleaning them both up with a rag, Matthew joins him on the bed, curling against his back, hands gentle on the marks left by the corset. 

He pushes himself back against the bulky warmth of Matthew’s chest, drawing an arm around himself, “You alright back there?” He asks teasingly, tangling their fingers together against his own chest. 

Matthew’s fingers splay though, scraping gently through his chest hair, against his skin, “Better than.”

“That really got you going, hm?” Clayton asks, even as he’s struggling to keep himself awake, though he feels the kiss against the top of his spine perfectly well. 

“You really get me going,” Matthew says to his back, earnest and easy. 

He hums low, brings Matthew’s hand up to kiss his scarred knuckles, “Feeling’s mutual, Matty.” And he can feel the answering smile pressed against his skin, even as sleep drags his eyes shut and blurs out the rest of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m @vowofenmity on twitter


End file.
